


Dave's Syndrome

by flags



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, M/M, dave's syndrome, sherlock shindig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flags/pseuds/flags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the sherlock shindig prompt: Method To My Madness<br/>having seen a particular episode of black books would probably help with understanding this fic but isn't necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dave's Syndrome

London was going through a heatwave, or so Sherlock was informed by John every time he checked the weather report on their laptop (well… John’s laptop.) and John seemed to be checking the temperature a lot…

After careful observation, because there was nothing interesting to focus on other than John at that current moment, Sherlock noted a certain amount of nervous tension in the line of his shoulders every time the temperature reached the top twenties.

A quick skim through his mind palace lead him to two possible explanations: that John was particularly hateful of high temperatures irrationally or that he was afflicted by a condition called ‘Dave’s Syndrome’. One of the more obscure conditions, Sherlock would normally have dismissed it outright but John’s agitated behaviour supported it and there were no cases on right now so he needed something to occupy him.

Unfortunately for John that something was trying to see if he could bring on an attack of Dave’s Syndrome.

\--------------

When John walked into their flat after a quick trip to the tesco’s for some shopping he was greeted with the sight of Sherlock sitting in the middle of their living room surrounded by various pieces of what used to be their air-conditioner.

“Sherlock, why-“

Sherlock interrupted him without looking up from where he was elbow deep in the metal casing. “It’s for an experiment.”

“But why now? Couldn’t you have done this experiment in wither or something?” 

Sherlock gave him that look that John knew well, the look that said ‘did you really just ask that?’ and John gave up on trying to reason with him and went to put the shopping away in the kitchen.

John woke up the next morning to find that Sherlock had sealed all the windows shut somehow, thrown open the curtains to let in the light, and appeared to be baking something  that John didn’t want to think on in the oven. The result of these actions was that the flat was sweltering.

John stormed over to where Sherlock was waiting in the kitchen, Sherlock turned at the noise of his steps and they stared at each other for a moment. John raised his arms in a a questioning manner, Sherlock raised an eyebrow and John threw his arms up in exasperation.

“I’m going to take a cold shower and head out, you better have fixed the windows by the time I get back.”

\--------------

3:00 found John watching telly with one of those small plastic fans whirring away in his hand to try and stave off the heat. This was no impediment to Sherlock’s goals as he wandered in wrapped in a bed sheet over his pyjamas. Flopping down on the couch he leaned heavily on john, covering him with the blanket as well.

“Sherlock, get off.”

“Be quiet John, I’m thinking.” He closed his eyes and steeped his fingers from his position in John’s lap.

ldquo;Yeah, well think somewhere else for a bit you lazy sod, I’m trying to watch tv.”

Sherlock made no reply and, after a couple of minutes where John tried to fix the miniature fan that Sherlock had managed to break when falling on him,  John gave a huff, wiped the sweat from his brow, and used the sheet to roll Sherlock up and dump him on the floor before putting his feet up on him.

Sherlock grumbled from his position but made no attempts to get up in favour of plotting his next approach.

\--------------

“John!”

John paused outside the door of Sherlock’s bedroom, maybe he had mishear, yes that’s probably what-

“John, come in here! I know your’e there, I can see your shadow.”

John sighed with resignation and opened Sherlock’s door only to be hit by a wave of heat as the steam from the bathroom made the room like a sauna. John tried to back out but a towel wearing Sherlock grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled him into the darkened room.

“Ah John, good. I need you to help with a theory I’m testing.”

He physically turned John around and shoved him backwards onto the bed.

“Sherlock, for future reference; don’t try and grab me like that anymore. I was in the army, remember? I was this close to hitting you.”

Sherlock waved a hand dismissively and John sudsy realised that he was indeed not wearing anything except a towel, and was fresh out of a hot shower if the way the steam rolled off his skin was any indicator.

John began to flush from more than the heat.

“I need you to assist me with a theory.”

“A theory?” He looked at Sherlock suspiciously. “What sort of theory?”

“The theory,” Sherlock yanked off the towel that was resting around his neck “that you,” he slapped the hot towel around John’s neck and crowded him against the bed, halfway to straddling him “have been hiding something from me.”

John shifted underneath Sherlock, there were a million reasons why if what he thought was happening was really happening that he shouldn’t do what he was thinking of. But John couldn’t help but lick his lips subconsciously at the thoughts running through his mind anyway.

“Well that depends on the sort of secret you think I’m keeping.”

Sherlock’s mouth twitched up at that, pleased that John was playing along.

“Well I must admit that this method of investigation rather kills two birds with one stone.” He inhaled shapely in surprise as John lightly reached out to trail the tips of his fingers over Sherlock’s arm.

“Two?” John’s face had gone very red now and his breathing had speed up, pupils dilated, pulse no doubt elevated. “so this explains why you’ve been acting madder than usual lately?”

“Mmm. The first secret I’m investigating I think you already have some idea of…” Sherlock spread his arms out of either side of John as he spoke, which lowered himself even more onto John who’s clothes were slowly becoming damp and clinging to his skin with the water and sweat.”

“And the second?” John asked softly, eyes flicking to Sherlock’s mouth and eyes and paying no attention to the way Sherlock’s hands were bunching up the bedsheets.

“And the second.” Sherlock’s smile turned suddenly mischievous. “is if you have dave’s syndrome.”

And with that Sherlock suddenly sat up and yanked three layers of bedding closed around John before he had time to react. Enclosing the smaller man in the thick layers. If Sherlock’s calculations were correct the combined temperature of the room with the bedsheets and John’s natural flushed response should be enough to raise his body temperature to set off the syndrome.

There was a moment’s silence and stillness. Then suddenly Sherlock was thrown with great force corm the bed as John burst from the cocoon of blankets with a howl. Ah, Sherlock possibly should have planned what to do in the event he was correct. John began to gibber wildly and fling off his clothes, leaping from the bed and grabbing Sherlock’s remaining towel from his body and fashioning it into a crude loin cloth. With a crude growl he hoisted Sherlock’s nude frame over his shoulder and stormed off to the living room to find some form of weapon.

\--------------

Lestrade pulled up to 221b in his police car and looked upon the chaos that had overtaken not just the flat but had also spilled forth onto the street and the neighbouring speedy’s.

Standing in the centre of the mess was a dishevelled and barely clothed John, screeching and jumping on top of a car with several passed out bystanders nearby. Less fortunate was Sherlock who was clinging to John in a feeble attempt to cover his nudity. They were both covered in paint with obscure phrases scrawled across their skin.

Resisting the urge to laugh he turned to the rookie officer who had accompanied him.

“Poor bloke, he’s got Dave’s Syndrome.”


End file.
